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a plotted starter for @rexaestate !!!

𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐍. the flaming heart of a black stag had been torn asunder and soon, they would be no more than ashes devoured by the fire that radiated within her children. the dragons had returned and with them, daenerys stormborn. vessels had paved across the narrow sea, fighting the waves in which rippled against such a homecoming. it was said that she had came into the world bringing a storm with her ––– the seven kingdoms near obliterated with every roll of thunder that devoured the realm. and now, as clouds blackened above the brickwork laced with valyrian magic, a downpour had begun. it seemed almost fitting that on the night she returned, that very tempest had too returned with a vengeance, laced with fire and blood.

footfalls ghost over cobblestone in the way her mothers might once have and with each new turn she takes through her ancestral seat, another wave of trauma hits ... as though the sea salt that laps against stone of slate did not hold enough of its own fury. amethysts are ignited and yet, there is little pride that swells within her heart. dragonstone was her home, though it all felt as foreign to her as the tales that viserys once whispered. lilacs do not know quite know where to turn, attempting to acquaint herself with the place in which she had been torn as a babe but nothing is familiar ––– not even the dragons in which adorn hallway walls. doors open as a gust of wind rips through the battlement room, the seven kingdoms painted on the table before her and yet, a figure haunts one of the chairs. blackened hair is kissed by the daylight that steals through the cavernous mouth onlooking the sea, a stark contrast to the silver of her own crown of braids.

steps come to a halt, wondering if it is yet another ghost that she can feel. a grim place the castle was, phantom figures of slain family members littering the fortress ––– though it is confirmed the form in which hues fall upon is no spectre. evidence is is given in the way her hands own mismatch hues cloud with concern, though amethysts do not pay a second longer to tyrion's and instead, allow themselves to cascade upon the man who takes residence here. a lump forms within her throat, searching for the reptilian tongue that spoke with fire and somehow, words deceive her. thick brows stitch together, anguish staining her skin as she steps forward to be met with the features of somebody broken ... somebody who appears to be lost. i must have fire in my eyes, she reminds herself. and as petals part with a newfound strength, sentences readily stringing themselves together as they form within her throat like the breath of a dragon, it is tyrion lannister who steps forward. ❛ ––– your grace, i believe this man to be renly baratheon. ❜

#iv. you’re in the great game now » threads.#rexaestate.#vi. and he wore antlers for a crown » renly baratheon.#AND SO IT BEGINS #the beautiful start of a hateship #xoxox #also can we just #take a second #how pretty is dany in that icon #i'm screamin #westeros' hottest power couple

❛ night terrors. ❜ @rexaestate from this meme.

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐒. and the mother of dragons can feel her skin set aflame, embers grazing upon each inch of porcelain that her body possesses. every wound inflicted upon her still hurts, as much as it had when cruelties were cast upon her, laying waste to her fragile figure ––– cruel japes spoken into existence from viserys, the deadly hands of drogo turning skin to clouds of lilac. still, the lacerations from a whip clung to her hip, scorching silk and turning it black as she found herself walking the sands of vaes dothrak once more. a targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing, it was whispered. though such tales do not shed any light now, fires turned to embers as she finds herself wound within the arms of renly baratheon, breath heavy and a perspiration kissing the top of her forehead. chest rises and falls, not in the state of peace that it should whilst in their chambers but in fear.

there had once been a time where she wanted to set him alight and perhaps, that was a sign that she was the daughter of the mad king. though daenerys stormborn could never have followed through on such reckless impulses and as his arms cloak her now, succumbing to the ghost she had once found within her ancestral seat, hues find themselves falling to a close. forearm slowly lifts to wrap around him ––– to press delicate digits and war ridden palms against his skin, frightful breath coming to a halt as she realises ... she is safe. arms are castle walls, there to protect her from the horrors she had lived, just like hers were his shield in times of need.

a sigh clings to his skin, falling into him as tears well within lilacs, wishing to bid away all of the torment she had suffered. it was as if everything bad that had ever found its way into her life had crept back that night, reminding her of how far she had come just to tear it from her grasp once more. daenerys draws back now, lilacs searching for his so that she knows that this is real and not yet another thing about to be pulled from her. a friendship they had formed, a kind of love that the exiled princess had never known existed. renly's hands were more gentle than those of her brothers and charcoal irises mirrored a care that she had not seen in the eyes of those that had wronged her. porcelain has turned to ice, as though she too had submerged beneath the frozen lake with viserion. as crystals spill from her eyes, the silver haired queen turns her head in shame, pressing it back upon his shoulder so that she might be able to fall apart without letting her husband worry, he already faced his own struggles and he did not need hers.